


Amid Darkened Waters II

by whitehart



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Multi, Past Sexual Abuse, Past physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:52:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitehart/pseuds/whitehart
Summary: This is my continuation of Amid Darkened Waters by phangurl.This will not make sense if you haven't read the original work.Warning: Depression, PTSD, attempts of suicide and sexual violence.





	Amid Darkened Waters II

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Amid Darkened Waters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142077) by [phangurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phangurl/pseuds/phangurl). 



> Quoted Italics are thoughts.

**John in coma, Day 4**

 

> _Sherlock. Please, don’t go. I can hear you. Stay, please don’t leave me!_

 

“His vitals are looking better. It’s improving as we speak.” The doctor told Harry as she held her brother’s hand in hers. It had been four days since the commotion with Molly and Sherlock.

“Sh-- Sher-- Shr’lock...” John strained through his ventilator.

“JOHN! Oh god. Doc, is he waking up?”

The doctor and nurse calmly checked John and determined that he was still in a coma. “Perhaps someone he wants to see--”

“NO!” Harry barked at the doctor before he could finish his sentence, “I will not let that bastard see my brother.”

“Even if it will give him a better chance at survival?” Harry heard a voice she had missed dearly from the door.

Molly.

 

“As much as it hurts, he needs Sherlock. You can’t deny your brother his biggest chance at survival.”

“She’s right, Ms Watson. Whoever this person is, the memories is triggering John’s vitals. He can hear you. When this young lady here mentioned Sherlock,” the doctor looked towards the monitors when he mentioned Sherlock’s name and looked back at Molly, “Look, it fluctuates. This person is John’s best chance.”

Harry didn’t want to hear any more of it. She knew how badly Sherlock had hurt her brother when he jumped, but she also knew she wasn’t any better. Between her drinking and mean words thrown towards John in the past, she too had broke their relationship in pieces. As she stormed out of John’s hospital room, Molly followed behind.

“Harry,” Molly was panting, chasing Harry along the corridor, “Please, stop!”

“Why?” Harry halted and turned around facing Molly, “Why is it always John? I’ve abused his trust since we were young, but… he never deserved it… not any of this!”

“This wasn’t your fault. But you can make things better,” Molly held Harry in her arms and swayed gently, “Please, let Sherlock see John. They need each other.”

Harry nodded quietly as she let her tears fall and soaked Molly’s clothed shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

**John in coma, Day 6**

Sherlock sat in Mycroft’s living room, hands wrapped around his knees against his chest. He had been in the same position for days since Molly last visited. He had been contemplating if he should escape for good and leave this all behind.

John Watson.

 

> _No. I can’t leave John behind, not again, not this time._

 

“Mr Holmes?” Sherlock lifted his head in a daze and saw the housekeeper by the door.

“Miss Hooper is here for you.”

“Let her in, and tea.”

“Yes Mr Holmes. I’ll bring you tea shortly.”

 

Molly was led into the living room and she sat across from Sherlock. He looked at her intently.

“You have news. Something important, about John?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Only if you promise to go see him and stay until he’s awake.”

“I can’t promise that, Molly.”

“He needs you Sherlock. He’s been getting better, even mumbled a few words two days ago.”

“That is good. If he’s improving, he doesn’t need me--”

“HE DOES!” Molly yelled over Sherlock’s words, “He was calling out your name, Sherlock. Your name! He only has you in his mind even now. He doesn’t even know you’re still alive. I cannot imagine the pain he would go through when he wakes up and realises that you’ve abandoned him again, and worse, at the time when he needed you the most. Do you even understand what you are trying to do Sherlock Holmes?!”

As she raised her voice, Mycroft and Lestrade came in from the kitchen.

“Is everything alright? Good evening Miss Hooper,” Mycroft nodded towards Molly, “Sorry we were occupied with a case in the other room and missed your arrival.”

“Good evening Mycroft, Greg. I am still not convinced that you don’t care, Sherlock. Or actually, you care too much but you’re afraid of the responsibility, hmm?”

“Enough.” Sherlock snapped at Molly, “I love John more than anyone in the world. He is my best friend, my only refuge. I would die for him in a heartbeat. I want what’s best for John, and if… if he needs me, I’ll be there.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Mycroft. I think I have made myself clear. Molly was right.”

“As you wish, brother dear. Just remember this is your last chance with John. We both know he can’t take more psychological pain after what happened. You will need to be there forever.”

“And I will.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“He doesn’t want normal. If he did, he would have left you a long time ago. He may have tried to capture something normal with dating and his job at the clinic. But those things soon passed away as he realised he didn’t want them. John was unable to cope because he had built his life around you… and suddenly you were gone. But now you’re here and life can go back to normal. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want John back?”_

Molly’s voice echoed in Sherlock’s mind as he sat next to Molly at the back of Mycroft’s car on the way to the hospital.

“Molly, I…” Sherlock cleared his throat, fidgeting a little in the leather seat and looked up into Molly’s eyes, “I want to apologise, and thank you.”

Molly simply nodded and looked out the window. Sherlock could see her tears from the reflection and decided it was best to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the journey.

 

Harry was sitting at next to her brother once again when Sherlock and Molly walked in.

“Harry, come on. Let’s go home.” Silently, Harry gave Sherlock an approving nod and held Molly’s hand while they leave John’s room. Sherlock went towards the only seat next to the bed and slumped into it, gently holding John’s hand.

“John. I’m here. I am so s-sorry for letting this happen to you. If I had known, _oh_ if I had… I would’ve came back for you immediately. I would have… gave up chasing Moriarty’s network. As long as you’re safe and alive… but you’re barely yourself anymore John, and this is all my fault. Please, John. Please wake up for me. Let me make things right for you… John. _Oh John…_ ” Sherlock sobbed and let his tears fall freely, soaking his cheeks and John’s hand pressed against his face. He rested his lips on the back of John’s hand, whispering his apology over and over again, calling his name, hoping John would hear him and come out of his coma.

 

> _Sherlock, is that you? Oh Sherlock. I’m on the other side with you, am I?_

The monitors spiked and John’s eyelids fluttered.

“John? JOHN! Please, come on John. Wake up for me!” Sherlock loomed over John as he reached for the call button.

Doctor and nurses ran in and look over John.

“He’s waking up!” The doctor declared joyously.

 

> _Sherlock? Oh it’s you. It’s really you. Sorry, I couldn’t see so well. Am I on the other side with you? Am I dead? Oh you look like shit Sherlock! Argh. My head hurts. Is it supposed to hurt when you’re dead? Oh Sherlock you’ve been waiting for me here? Hey, talk to me… Wait, where are you going? NO! Don’t go!_

 

The nurses dragged Sherlock out of the room as the doctor ran some checks on John. Sherlock violently pressed his phone sending a flurry of texts to Mycroft, Molly and Lestrade.

**John is up. -SH**

 

 

> _Doctor, nurses. Ah, not dead. But Sherlock… he was here. Argh my head hurts! Stop shining that light in my eyes! Parched. I need water… Ah, good timing nurse. Oh god this water taste so bloody good. How is that possible? Mmphh. I need to try to talk._

“Sh-- _*cough cough*_ Shr’lock.” John barely coughed out Sherlock’s name.

“Hold on there doctor Watson. We’ll let him back in here in a minute.”

 

“John! Oh god, John you’re awake. John!” Sherlock ran back into the room and embraced John, crying his name over and over into John’s pillow. John let his other hand run through Sherlock’s hair, to feel if this was real.

“Is this real?” John hoarsely whispered.

“Yes, John, I am alive. Sorry, I am so sorry for leaving you in grief. All that you went through was my fault… I love you John, please, forgive me.”

Still holding Sherlock, John could only manage one word, “Why?”

“Moriarty was going to kill you. I couldn’t let him do that. I had to protect--” Sherlock was about to explain himself when he felt a sharp pain on his scalp. John had tugged his hair so hard he had to pull away.

“Get out.” John bit his words. He was furious. Everything that happened after Sherlock jumped came flooding through his mind. The pain, despair, depression, self-loathe, being used, enslaved, raped, defiled.

Worthless.

 

Sherlock held John’s hand, not letting go. John was unconsciously holding Sherlock’s hand too, and had no intentions of letting go. The detective read John’s expression and knew what he was thinking.

“No, John. I am not going to leave. I am here for you. Let me help you find yourself again. We can’t go back, but we can move on. I will be here for you, next to you, as long as you want me to. Say the word, and I will leave if you don’t want me. I want you to be happy, John. That is all I want, with or without me.”

John let his tears fall. He cried and cried while holding Sherlock’s hand tight. He was in no condition to have a conversation. He was in pain, physically and mentally. His heart hurts, his stomach churned with memories of living as a slave. His eyes stung from the overwhelming flood of tears.

Sherlock couldn’t do anything but to hold John’s hand tight, reassuring him that he is not alone.

“John, I will never leave you. Never. Even if I die, I will die protecting you. I love you John, more than my own life.”

 

Greg and Mycroft raced towards John’s room. The door was slightly ajar. As they approached, Greg heard Sherlock’s confession and quickly held Mycroft back.

“Give them a little time.”

Mycroft took a quick peek and saw his brother kissed John on the forehead.

“I agree. Let’s come back tomorrow. I will inform Miss Hooper and Mrs Hudson to do the same.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You are doing great Doctor Watson. We just need to sort out the paperwork and you are free to go home! I heard someone is coming to take you into protective custody for the trial, yes?”

 

> _Home. Where is home? There is no home without Sherlock. I am used and abused. Once I am off the painkillers he will be gone. I have nothing to live for anymore._

“John?”

 

> _Ah, Sherlock. His hand feels warm on my back. I should enjoy this while I can… What is wrong with me? When have I become such a slut? Just a touch and I want more… Whore. He wouldn’t want me. He won’t play with a used toy. It’s pointless. Doesn’t matter if I love him. He’s not real._

“Are you alright? John, talk to me, please?”

John nodded.

 

> _No I’m not. But it’s none of your business. You’re not really here. What would he expect me to say? That I feel dirty all the time? That I’m dying inside? That I want him to touch me, to touch away those feelings that I have? He won’t. He wouldn’t want me. Dirty, used, defiled me._

“No you’re not fine, John. If you won’t talk to me, would you at least listen to me? Would you give me the chance to win your trust back?”

John stared into Sherlock’s eyes.

 

> _I want to trust you, Sherlock, I want to believe that you’re here... but you’re not..._

Tears fell. John had started to cry without knowing.

“Oh, John. My dear John, what have they done to you? Let me help John, please...” Sherlock sat next to John on the bed and held John against his chest. The detective felt tears on his own cheeks, but they were tears of anger, and his fists balled up so tight his knuckles had turned white, fingernails bit into his palm. “Just say the word John, and I’ll rid the world of those fucking pests.”

 

> _Kill them, torture them, haunt them... I don’t care anymore. Won’t change the past, won’t change the fact that I was used, that you won’t want me because I’m worthless._

“Sherlock…”

“Oh god, John. You… What do you need? You haven’t spoken in three weeks. Are you comfortable?”

There was a long pause before John caught his breath between sobs and mumbled, “Why?”

Sherlock contemplated for a short while, trying to deduce what the question was referring to, and finding the one answer that would cover all possibilities.

“Because I love you, John Watson.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. With all my heart, my life. I would die for you John. I would--”

“Even if I’m worthless as I am now?”

“No, you’re not worthless. You are my heart, my soul, my life, John. You are worth every stab, every gunshot, every whip that I’ve endured. You are worth all the insults that the world can throw at me, you are worth all the sleepless nights and days. You are worth it all to me, if it keeps you safe, if it keeps you with me for our whole lives. I’ve promised you everyday in the past three weeks that I will never leave you behind, and I will remind you everyday of that promise until the day you die. I will not let myself die before you.”

 

> _Will you follow if I do? I would follow you in a heartbeat... I should have followed you.  
>  _

“I won’t let you die, John. Not if I can stop it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Everything has gone back to normal… almost.

In the months after John was rescued, Sherlock’s name was cleared. After John’s discharge, he was housed at a safe house pending the trial of his captors. The trial was not due to start for another two weeks, but something happened to his captors while they were in prison. Apparently a gang fight broke out and they were all stabbed to death, except for Erik who had suffered stab wounds and internal injuries from being raped.

 

“What happened?”

“All dead except Erik.”

“How?”

Mycroft only shook his head. Everyone in that room knew Mycroft had something to do with it. John looked as if he couldn’t care less. Ever since his rescue, he had heard his story repeated six times, down to the nasty details - every abuse, every cock he swallowed, every orgasm he had while they fucked him raw... and how much they said he liked it.

Mrs Hudson and Sherlock had moved into the safe house with John after Sherlock was released from Mycroft’s custody. No one else except for Mycroft, Lestrade and John’s attorney knew where this was. John’s nightmares were violent. It was worst than the ones he had when he first moved into 221B. Sherlock had started to sleep on the floor next to John after the doctor had fallen asleep so he could be there when the nightmare starts.

The first two weeks at the safe house, John couldn’t stop cleaning. He would move every movable furniture to scrub the wall, carpet and floor. He had stripped all the bed sheets and washed them over and over. By the time Sherlock and Mrs Hudson moved in, the bedsheets had been scrubbed torn.

Twice John tried to take his own life. John was alone at the safe house the first two weeks which he spent cleaning every day. On the third week after the first two plea hearing and went through some finer details with the attorney, John had enough. Initially, John was assigned a state psychiatrist, but he wouldn’t speak to anyone else except for Sherlock - because he still believed Sherlock was dead, and the Sherlock with him was his hallucination. When he moved into the safe house, he had stopped taking painkillers and Sherlock was on his own trial and wasn't allowed to leave Mycroft's. Sherlock’s absence for two weeks threw John completely off balance.

 

> _I knew I was hallucinating. He wouldn’t have loved me, not when I was used and passed around like a fuck toy. Took it like a pretty little cock slut. That was all I did. I just… took it. Sherlock… I’m glad you didn’t have to see me like this... If I succeed, I will see you again very, very soon._

John tied a few bedsheets together and threw one end over the beam in the attic. He held his head in the loop, tip toed on a stool.

 

> _Sherlock… I’m coming to meet you. Please, be there on the other side to meet me._

His feet dangled. The stool knocked on its side.

 

> _Sherlock._

 

A loud crash forced John to open his eyes. Two men in suits broke down the attic door and shot the cloth holding John’s neck. It ripped and sent John falling down. They helped him up and called in his doctor.

Mycroft had stationed two of his most trusted men near the safe house. He knew John would try to take his own life. He also had pinhole cameras installed to cover every corner of the house. John’s privacy was irrelevant at that moment. Keeping him alive was the only thing that mattered.

After his first attempt at suicide, Mycroft had pushed through papers for Mrs Hudson and Sherlock to live with John at the safe house. It wasn’t until one night when John’s nightmare almost killed him that he finally registered Sherlock’s existence.

John’s nightmare was frightening. He was in captivity, skinned alive, tortured, branded with hot iron, physically and sexually abused. John was screaming when Sherlock tried to wake him up. In his nightmare, Erik had pinned him down and let the others rape him in turn. In reality, Sherlock was shaking his shoulders trying to wake him up. John’s eyes snapped open and flipped Sherlock down against his bed. His instincts was to kill. He choked Sherlock so hard it almost snapped his throat. One of Mycroft’s men had to knock John out to save Sherlock. When John came to, Sherlock was right there next to him, playing a song he had never heard before.

“Wrote this song for you when I was in Russia. I missed you so much, couldn’t concentrate on my plans. Had to write down my feelings somewhere.”

“Russia? You’ve never been to Russia. God damn it, I’m really going crazy. Now I’m hallucinating random countries too?” John scoffed and started laughing.

“You are not hallucinating John. Look. At. Me.” Sherlock held John’s hand and emphasised the last three words sternly. “John, I am here, I wasn’t dead. You almost killed me earlier though, good to see you’ve got some strength back.”

John could see bruises on Sherlock’s neck.

“I… So the whole story about taking down Moriarty’s network… that was… real?”

“Every word I said was real, John.”

 

> _“Because I love you, John Watson.”  
>  I love you too, Sherlock Holmes. _

He couldn’t say it, but Sherlock read it in his face. He knew it was going to be a long time before John would recover, or he may never, but Sherlock was determined to stay with John, for better or for worst.

 

* * *

 

 

John’s second attempt at suicide was after Erik’s verdict. He was sentenced to life in prison. But during the trial, the defense tried to argue that John was a willing party and based on some video footages, he had enjoyed being used. Sherlock almost killed the lawyer with his bare hands when they walked past him outside the courthouse. John never expected them to have any recordings. It was one thing to be humiliated within the four walls, but to have the risk of it being exposed to the whole world?

And it did. Sherlock found the video on the dark web. It took six days for Mycroft and his counterparts in the CIA to rid of every digital trace of the video.

“It’s done.”

“John, it’s over for now…”

He stood abruptly from his chair and walked towards the closet.

 

> _But how many people had seen it? Did Sherlock see it? He found it, of course he did. You’re really stupid now John… He’d seen me fucked and sucked cocks while chained up… like an animal._

John locked the door behind him and switched on the light.

 

> _I can’t live like this. I can’t… Not when Sherlock had seen me like that. No… I can’t do this anymore._

He walked towards the back and held the bottle of bleach, sat at the corner hugging the large bottle.

 

> _Sherlock, I’m sorry but I really have to go. I’m sorry it will hurt you, but it’s better this way._

“JOHN! OPEN THE DOOR! PLEASE!”

John couldn’t hear anything. He was lost in his head and opened the cap.

 

> _Please, just let me go._

“JOHN!” Sherlock yelled as he kicked down the door, grabbing the bottle away from John’s hands and threw it away from them. “He had a few mouthfuls down. Call the ambulance now!” He yelled towards Lestrade.

John vaguely remembered the faint taste of chlorine in his mouth and being carried out of the closet around Sherlock.

 

> _Please… I don’t want to live any more. Not like this._

 

* * *

 

 

John was kept in the hospital after his stomach was pumped. Sherlock stayed by his side, only leaving to use the bathroom. John was in and out of consciousness for three days. He was physically fine, but his mental state was a mess. When John finally woke up on the fourth day, Sherlock made a conscious effort to shower him with loving whispers, told John how much he needed him and it will all pass.

“I do love you, John. From the day I met you in Bart’s lab. Till today. And I promise to love you until the end.”

“D-don’t… You deserve better. Not s-someone used like me.”

“John, you are the only one for me. I won’t have anyone else except you. No force is strong enough to tear us apart. I want to take you home, John. Our home.”

“You found my letter.”

“Yes. And you never have to thank me. Because you saved me too.”

John felt something heavy lifted off his chest.

_He still wants me back, after all this..._

“Oh god, Sherlock!” John pulled Sherlock into his arms and cried. They stayed there in each other’s arms for a good ten minutes before Sherlock pulled away slightly, held his forehead against John’s.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you would never want to.”

Sherlock let his lips gently brush on John’s. He wanted more, but with the nature of John’s abuse, he will need to take it very slow and let John set the pace. John pressed his lips harder against Sherlock’s. Slowly, lips were apart and they were kissing deeply, full of want, affection and desire, but not lust. John pulled away first, but his arms were still around Sherlock’s waist and he noticed Sherlock’s erection.

“Sherlock.” John couldn’t verbalise what was in his head.

_I may never be able to feel sexual arousal anymore. I feel safe with you, but I can’t. You obviously want to, but I might never be able to fulfill that desire of yours…_

John’s thoughts were cut off when Sherlock snapped his fingers in John’s face.

“It was a natural reaction, doesn’t mean I want to. I will still love you as much as I do now, even if we never do _that_.” Sherlock motioned his hand towards his erection. “Tell me when you’re uncomfortable, and I’ll stop. I won’t love you any less no matter what.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock and John had settled back into 221B, and they had moved into Sherlock’s room. After years of counselling and spoiled outrageously by his doting partner, John no longer has suicidal thoughts. The voices in his own head had disappeared and he was getting more comfortable with Sherlock’s touches.

In the beginning, he could only let Sherlock go as far as holding his upper body in their sleep. He wouldn’t let Sherlock touch his chest or anywhere from his waist down. He was also wary of Sherlock’s untimely erections. The first time they had snogged in bed and Sherlock’s erection accidentally brushed against his knee, he went blind with rage and had a panic attack.

In the first year, John had sixteen panic attacks and every one of them landed both him and Sherlock in the hospital. The violent nightmares made him throw punches and kicks at whoever closest to him, and with Sherlock sleeping next to John every night, it was inevitably Sherlock who received John’s fists and kicks.

As one more year went by, the nightmares had reduced to screams and tears. One more year, finally, John was able to have his first night of good sleep. He was asleep for sixteen hours that night, and Sherlock held John close the whole time. The following week while Sherlock was asleep, John moved Sherlock’s arms towards his own waist and fell asleep with his head pressed against the detective’s chest. When Sherlock woke up in the morning, he smiled knowing things were getting better, and John was beginning to find himself again.

Towards the end of the third year, John had went back to the clinic as a paediatrician. Both himself and his psychologist agreed that contact with older male patients might be a trigger, and it would be beneficial for him to be around children to reinforce his caring nature.

 

* * *

 

 

Today marks the fourth year of their first kiss.

 

**Need you home. Now, please. -SH**

**One more kid and I’m all yours. New case? -JW**

**No case. Just need you. -SH**

**And I bought milk. Come straight home after your last patient. -SH**

 

Sherlock bought milk. John thought that was odd. Even with what they were going through, Sherlock was still the same brat. He had started to do chores together with John, because Sherlock knew John doing it alone would remind him of when he was in captivity.

Today is a special day. Four years. John was getting better, and Sherlock had learnt the value of sentiment, of how precious emotions can be when it is with the people you love.

John was intrigued by Sherlock’s behaviour. He walked mindlessly back to their home, wondering what his partner was up to. As he opened the door to their home, he noticed the curtains were drawn, and candles were lit. It smelt like lavender.

Sherlock was standing in the middle of the flat in John’s favourite beige jumper.

“What the hell is this? Why are you wearing my jumper? I thought you hated-- _mmphh_!”

Sherlock walked up to John and kissed him before he could finish his sentence and was rewarded with meekness. John smiled into the kiss before he tilted his head and parted his lips slightly, giving Sherlock permission to explore deeper. But he didn’t.

“John, before we… no, before you think anything stupid, I want you. I love you. More than anything.” Sherlock held both John’s hand and led him towards his chair and sat John down. He knelt on one knee between John’s knees, “John Hamish Watson…”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t know what I was going to--”

“Yes I do.”

“You know what I was going to ask?”

“Yes.”

“Would you let me ask properly?”

John nodded excitedly. There were tears rolling off his cheeks when Sherlock pulled out a velvet box with a ring inside.

“John Hamish Watson, would you give me the honour of loving you, cherishing you and protecting you for the rest of our lives, as long as we both shall live?”

“Yes!”

 

It was a long and exhausting road, but Sherlock made a vow to himself to keep John safe, and will never leave him for better or for worse.

 

_"Long was I enchained amid the darkened waters, as they foamed in wild fury through the earth's hidden caverns, and dashed over the prostrate forms of its sinful children, so fearfully destroyed! But at length the sun beamed forth in spendor and I met his glance, I strewed the surface with countless jewels of the watery realm, in welcome of his bright presence."_

**Author's Note:**

> The ending quote was from The Knickerbocker, 1845, slightly modified to fit the story.
> 
> Thanks for reading. xx


End file.
